


that would be enough

by kiichandesu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Female My Unit | Byleth, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, also the most severe underreaction to a first period ever, general softness, nintendo robbed me of soft father-daughter content, no gory details i promise, parenting, pre-game era, so i'm providing for myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 06:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiichandesu/pseuds/kiichandesu
Summary: "Tell you what,” he said, gently brushing his free hand across Byleth’s forehead, sweaty from the blankets’ warmth. “If you don’t feel better in less than an hour, I’m going back to that clinic and knocking some heads together.”





	that would be enough

**Author's Note:**

> prompt(s) from [this](https://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) list (prompts 18 & 62)
> 
> this is the first thing I actually finished since like,, may 2018 <strike>because uni is a bitch</strike> and it’s about a mostly non-expressive preteen and her hardened-soldier-but-also-super-soft-for-her dad dealing with her first period like
> 
> I am so starved for soft Jeralt and Byleth content guys
> 
> Also, this was supposed to be just prompt 18 but then the soft Dad Feels hit me and I accidentally used another one. What can I say, I’m a weak woman ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The room was small and stuffy, which had never bothered either of them before. Jeralt had never grown out of the habit of asking for a single-bed room whenever they chose to spend a night or two in an inn, despite Byleth growing taller and bigger as she aged, and his daughter had never once complained about sharing a bed with him, either.

It was both a question of money and anxiety of not being able to protect her otherwise should anything happen during the night, but in recent months, it had started meriting him far odder looks than it did a few years back, when she was still a toddler and not dangerously close to be considered a preteen.

Though, as of two nights ago, he guessed some people would consider her a woman already. Personally, he found the idea off-putting at best.

Besides, a woman was the last thing she resembled right now, carefully wrapped as she was in all the blankets they could find in the room, only her eyes and a handful of blue hair left exposed. She was curled into herself, as though she was pretending to be a caterpillar desperately trying to hide inside her cocoon. Her perpetually stoic expression, which sometimes still left him unsure of himself, was now almost amusing, considering her position.

Unfortunately, the hint of amusement in his gut was drown out by the worry currently squeezing his chest. He never imagined seeing her like this could hurt him so much, especially considering that to the untrained eye, she didn’t really look like she was suffering at all.

“Here, drink this.” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “You’ll feel better.”

She glanced up at the cup he was holding and blinked slowly in consideration. The concoction, far too clear to be considered booze—not that he would ever offer anything of the sort, anyway—and with a smell far too pungent to be considering tea, left her suspicious at best.

It would be impossible to tell for someone who didn’t know her well enough, but the way her eyes browsed to the side and her chin tilted towards her chest told Jeralt exactly just how much she wanted to get up and sit properly to drink that. That is, not at all.

“Will I?” she asked, an edge to her voice that suggested that she would drink it only if he was absolutely sure.

Thing was, he _wasn’t_. The situation had caught him entirely unprepared. When, two nights ago, she had woken him up in the middle of the night, he had been surprised enough to see her holding her arms uncomfortably around her stomach, as she barely displayed her discomfort in any normal situation, and he had been completely blindsided when she had nodded to the bedsheets she had been resting on until that very moment.

The most he had been able to do was call the closest woman he could find.

Thankfully, that had been Dae, a mercenary woman who had joined their ranks about half a year prior and was currently staying in a room a couple doors down from them. She had been more than willing to take Byleth to the baths and talk her through the situation. Jeralt, unable to rest still for as long as the two of them were hidden away from him, had ended up waking up the innkeeper to ask information about the town’s doctor.

There were few things in this world he loathed more than having a doctor visit his daughter—men and women alike would always stop and focus on _that one thing_ instead of what he actually needed them for—but this felt like an appropriate time to do so.

Dae had generously accepted to accompany the two of them, confident she would bemore capable to discuss such things than Jeralt would.

Mostly, though, she ended up being a much needed restrain on him, impeding him from using force to get the doctor, a woman a little older than himself, to stop talking about how _impossible_ and _remarkable_ his daughter’s lack of a heartbeat was and simply prescribe him with a way to make said daughter stop suffering right in this moment.

It was difficult to convince her that she was suffering at all when Byleth herself had looked as unperturbed as usual through most of the transaction, only furrowing her eyebrows slightly when she had been forced to move to the clinic and back, but _he_ could tell. That should be enough. 

He could also tell Dae had wanted to comment. He’d been grateful when she didn’t.

“Tell you what,” he said, gently brushing his free hand across Byleth’s forehead, sweaty from the blankets’ warmth. “If you don’t feel better in less than an hour, I’m going back to that clinic and knocking some heads together.”

She looked at him. He held back a grimace: no matter how good he got at understanding all the subtleties of her non-expressions, he feared he would never be able to know what she was thinking when she looked at him like that. What she thought of him.

“Alright,” she nodded diplomatically, and pushed her hands against the mattress to force herself in a seated position, the blankets falling on her shoulders at the motion and revealing her nest of blue hair.

She scooted a little closer to him, and gingerly took the cup into her hands. They were so infinitely smaller than his; if he wished to, he could hold both of them into one of his own. Goddess, how could this tiny creature be considered a woman?

“You know, kid,” he said as she watched her sip the medicine, already exhausted at the prospect of what he was about to suggest, “We should talk about this.”

She paused. “About the bleeding?” she asked, peering at him from the corner of her eye.

“No,” He shook his head. She gulped down the rest of the medicine a little quicker than she should to give him her undivided attention. “We should talk about what the... this entails. What it means. For you, and for... other people.”

Byleth stared at him, then at the bottom of the now empty cup.

“Dae says I can have babies now.”

_No. You’re a child. If anyone looks at you that way, I’m..._ Jeralt sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s what you want to talk about?”

“’Want’ is a strong word,” he chuckled, though he could find no mirth to the situation, “But yes. There are things you need to know about... that.”

She considered his answer for a couple of seconds. Then, she looked at him with that indecipherable stare of hers again. “Is it a long conversation?”

“Hopefully not.”

A nod. “Do we have to have it right now?”

He took in the sight of her, the mess that was her hair, the delicate redness of her eyes from lack of sleep, the way her knees were flush against her chest as though to squeeze her body into itself as much as possible. Most importantly, he took in the soft curve of her features, the baby fat on her cheeks and the wide cut of her eyes.

He smiled his softest smile, the one he reserved only for her, and took the cup from her hands. He patted her head gently with his other hand, a gesture he hoped was as reassuring to her as it was to him. “No. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Okay.” she said, then she grabbed the blanket that had fallen from her head to wrap it around herself once more.

Only, rather than falling back on the mattress, she leaned on him instead, her head finding its place on his chest and one arm snaking behind his back for balance, while the other grabbed at his shirt, old and battered and in dire need of some stitches, but still solid enough to withstand her eleven-year-old grip.

Jeralt held a breath, surprised by the suddenness of her affection, but released it immediately, setting himself more comfortably on the bed so that the position wouldn’t turn awkward too soon.

“I wish we could train.” she said.

He almost chuckled again. Almost. “I know, kid. Does it hurt?”

She hummed. “A lot.” Her grip tightened just a touch. “Papa?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t leave until it stops.”

Jeralt gazed up at the ceiling. He couldn’t very well describe what he was feeling. He was in pain, because she was in pain, and yet his heart had swelled just now, because sometimes he needed a reminder that despite how cold and even mature she could seem at times, she still needed him.

He guessed that was what being a parent was.

He didn’t tell her he loved her. He couldn’t remember if he ever had.

But he held her. He held her like she was the most important, wonderful thing that ever existed in their cold, challenging world, because she _was_, and he hoped that she understood. He wondered, quietly, if she ever hoped the same.


End file.
